


The Pageant Girl

by EllieCee



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band), One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifth Harmony is opening for One Direction, and management's concerned about hook-ups and messy relationships, but Harry thinks it's all ridiculous. To him, they're bright-eyed, naive 16 year olds, that is, until he gets to know Normani Hamilton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jitters

_Mama was sitting at the third row, sixth seat. She can see a sliver of her warm face behind the lady’s big hair. Mama smiled, and she knew it was for her. Mama always smiled when she got onstage._

_But the lights dimmed and Mama melted away into the crowd._

_Boom._

_The lights were on._

_She told herself, “Breathe. Breathe, Mani, breathe.”_

_Clack went the heel, clack went the heel._

_The lady at the front of the stage was only a few feet away._

_“Breathe, Mani, breathe.”_

_She felt her feet sweating and slipping inside those heels. They were only three inches, she said to Mama, she can wear them this pageant. She’s a big girl now. But now she felt_ _like she was going to slip. She clenched her toe like a fist. She wasn’t going to slip._

_“Now, fighting for the title of Miss Junior New Orleans, 8 year old Normani Hamilton!”_

_Clack went the heel, clack went the heel. Slow and steady._

_But not too slow._

_“Her special talent is singing! Give it up everyone, Normani Hamilton!”_

_The feedback sliced through her head. She kept smiling._

_“Sorry,” the lady mouthed, handing her the microphone._

_Cold and heavy in her hands, she lifted it up her face, swallowed and waited for the music to start._

 

* * *

 

 “I’ll, never be that girl again…”

 She stopped. The crack in her voice was deafening in her ears.

 “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

Lauren’s hand on her shoulder was warm and light.

 “It’s okay, it’s just rehearsals,” Lauren said.

 Normani sighed. “I hate it when I crack.”

 “To be fair,” Ally piped, “We didn’t do any warm-ups.”

 Normani wanted to absorb the sunshine around Ally, but the clouds around her were too thick. She’d been plagued by that stupid crack last night. She did it in front of at least a thousand people. It’s a nightmare that happens every so often. It’s gotten more frightening every time.

 “Always end the last show of a tour well,” Cher told them. She sure as hell didn’t.

 “I feel like I’m gonna crack all the time now,” Normani sighed. She could still hear it in her head, like it’d been the loudest thing that night.

 She apologized too, and rule number one from vocal lessons were: “Never let the audience know you messed up. Keep going.”

 She can’t help it. She can’t pretend.

 “Mani,” Dinah said, “We all miss a note once in a while.”

 “Yeah,” Camila replied, “I missed a note in our first show in Lansing.”

 “But, Lansing was so small, Mila,” Normani said.

 Lansing _was_ small. It was tented area and one level of fans. It was intimate, and yes, eardrum-throbbing-ly loud, but small. Not the large echo-ey grandness of the O2 Arena – in London. Texas would be more than 1,000 miles away.

 “Mani, you’ll be so pumped, you won’t notice,” Lauren said, resting her chin on Normani’s shoulder.

 “We’ll probably all crack,” Dinah added, “I just hope not all at once.”

 Normani chuckled.

“Smile,” Ally said, twisting her head upside down, crinkling her eyes, “Look how pretty.”

 Before Normani could utter another word about cracking, she’s flat on the wooden floor, her limbs tangled with sixteen others (they had a lot of limbs altogether, she thought), Camila and Dinah screaming about something unintelligible.

 Maybe they should just plop together on the stage, tangled in each other screaming. Even if she cracked, she’d be nicely nestled between Lauren and Ally, safe and warm.

 She felt too small to be singing in the O2.

 

* * *

 

“No messing about.”

 Harry knew who their manager was looking at, him, Niall, and Zayn.

 “We won’t,” Niall said, flashing a toothy smile.

 It was always so stuffy in their manager’s office. Harry wondered if the window’s ever been opened, or their manager _knew_ there was a window to open.

 “Harry,” their managed droned, raising an eyebrow at him.

 “What makes you think I’m going to try anything?” he asked.

 Fifth Harmony.  When he and the boys performed at the US X Factor, they were there, all bright eyed. The girl with the dark hair…Camilla? CamEEla? He knew her. He didn’t know the rest of them, because Camila – or Camilla? Well, she was the only one who’d ever said a word to him. Julian let him peek at their album months ago. It was catchy, but he hasn’t really heard much lately, only that they’re gathering a good amount of fans.

 But for the messing around part? They were 16, as far as he knew. A little too young for him.

 “Girls around your age. This makes me very nervous,” their manager replied, rubbing his temples, “This isn’t going to cause problems, am I right?”

 Now he was glaring at Zayn, who’d up until now, had channeled all his attention to his phone screen.

 “Mate, I’m engaged,” Zayn called.

 “You being in a commitment type thing hasn’t stopped you in the past,” their manager said, “This is not a thing for you boys to play games with. They’re young girls.”

 Harry chuckled. The glare Zayn gave him could’ve burned a hole through his head.

 “I’ve been sleeping on the bus, ask Preston” Zayn said, “I’m not going to do it anymore.”

 “I’ll take your word for it,” their manager said, sighing long and hard.

 “Do you seriously think we’re going to mess around with them?” Niall asked.

 Harry thought it ridiculous. Camilla (Camila?) might as well be his little sister.

 “You boys never fail to surprise me,” their manager replied, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 “We won’t,” Harry said.

 The girls’ would probably be out sight-seeing, they’d never seen the UK before, he assumed. He and the boys have been around these stops so many times, it wasn’t too interesting anymore. He’d probably go out for a beer with Niall and Josh most nights. The girls were too PG-13 to do anything he and the boys would be up to – maybe except shopping.

 They won’t see them much anyway, Harry thought.  

 

 

* * *

 

Normani woke up at 4 in the morning with an intense craving for root beer.

 She’d had a tight feeling in her stomach since they landed. The fact that it seemed to always be cloudy in London didn’t help. The air was always cold, unlike the Texas sun on her skin.

 The idea of touring with those boys terrified her. Camila loved them, and she remembered meeting them. She knew this time around would be much different. Boys like that, especially now that they’re on top of the world, never treat girls nice. She knew they’d probably avoid them at all cost.

 She tossed around and tried focusing on one thing until she was tired. Mama always told her to do that.

 She thought about Camila’s ridiculous polka-dotted bookbag, and that day they wouldn’t stop picking on her about it.

 She thought about when Dinah threw beans in Lauren’s face.

 She thought about the last pageant she’d ever done, before all this.

 And how she didn’t win, and how the girl’s mother called her a…

 Now she couldn’t sleep more than ever. She slipped off her bed, and felt for her slippers on the floor. She walked as softly as she could across the room.

 Lauren was face down, dead asleep in her bed, cocooned in her blankets.  Normani dare not wake her.

 “Let sleeping Lauren lie,” Dinah always said, although she was never scared to throw beans or do anything ridiculous to Lauren.

 Normani didn’t know this hotel. Well, she doesn’t know most hotels, but she’s not in Texas or Michigan – or California. But she knew how people were in each place. In Texas, they’re sugary sweet and call you ma’am and miss, and they had sweet tea in the lobby. In California, they had minty cold water in the lobby. People didn’t call you ma’am and miss, and they were a little strange. People don’t look each other in the eye in big cities.

 But she didn’t know what London was like. She didn’t know which parts of England are sugary sweet, and which parts you’d need pepper spray in purse for.

 She tucked her phone in the back pocket of her sweatpants, grabbed her room card and slipped off. She hoped the shutting door didn’t wake Lauren up.

 She walked down the hallways, trying to keep track of where she turned and where she passed. She tried to find a vending machine amidst the peach walls and velvet red carpets, but none in sight. Normani turned another corner, thinking about how ridiculously big this one floor could be. She heard they bought out the whole floor, so nobody would bother One Direction. She wondered if it were true.

 Suddenly, she saw a glow of red to her left. The vending machine stood tucked into a small crevice. It gave her some strange feeling of relief. She looked through the choices: Coca-cola, Sprite, Fanta, and some she’d never heard before. No root beer. She looked again.

 The sound of a door opening nearly made her fall over. She turned around to see a girl, maybe twenty, her blonde hair bunched up in a messy ponytail.

 So they weren’t alone on the floor.

 Behind her followed a boy, maybe her age, donning a worn out plaid shirt.

 She knew that boy.

 “Oh,” Harry said, when his eyes met hers.

 Normani turned away, the fastest she’d ever turned away from anyone.

 “Um. There’s a cab for you in the back,” Harry whispered to the girl, as if it weren’t quiet enough to hear him.

 Normani pressed the button for coke and slipped in a five. The can clunked at the bottom just as she heard the girl scurry away. She turned around to go, soda in hand, when she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder.

 “Don’t tell anyone,” Harry said in a low voice, “Please?”

 Normani gripped the cold can in her hands. “It’s not like people don’t know you –“

 “I know,” Harry replied, “But, it causes a lot of drama.”

 “Okay,” Normani replied.

 Lauren was still asleep when she came back to their room. 


	2. Breathe

The breaks between rehearsal became Camila and Dinah on ice, featuring Ally trying to make sure neither of them chipped their teeth during a fall.

The rehearsal area was a brightly lit, spacious, antiseptic white space, and much to Camila and Dinah’s delight, it was covered with a slippery, shiny floor. And of course, they had the right equipment – those ridiculous socks they all bought on the way to Denver. Bright, fuzzy, neon colored things with weird prints. Camila’s had flying tomatoes and Dinah’s had leopards. She didn’t miss the chance to make animal print jokes, of course.

Normani forgot her socks back in Texas – stuffed under her old pageant dress in her drawer. They were bright pink and had a tiara print, and Lauren made sure she got those socks when they passed them around. “Because you’re the princess,” she said, smiling.

“I should’ve brought them,” Normani said, “We could all do something stupid with them.”

“We could all just kick our shoes off after we go on and show the entire arena the flying tomatoes on Camila’s feet,” Dinah said, spinning, nearly crashing into Camila, who’d fallen for the fifth time.

 “You can make that animal print joke,” Lauren said, pointing to Dinah’s socks.

 “Ally’s is the dumbest,” Camila added, “She has bowls of cereals on her’s!”

 “Hey!” Ally called, “Not fair, y’all took the good ones.”

 “I don’t think you can really say that flying tomatoes are less stupid than cereal bowls,” Lauren said.

 The door burst open, and Frank waltzed in, stage tape in his hands.

 “What are those for?” Ally asked.

Frank held up the neon green and said “We’re going to start doing staging, so get a drink of water or whatever, we’re starting in five.” He taped one end of the area, making corners with the tape. He jogged over to what seemed like the other end and taped it again.

“The stage is bigger than when you were doing the mall tour, or when you were with Cher,” he said, “It’s all the same choreo, we just need to space it out better.”

He placed neon x’s across the makeshift stage, at what looked like oceans apart. Normani’s stomach clenched.

“Get in your positions for ‘better together,’” Frank said.

Normani trekked to her spot, all the way to the far right. She turned around, wanting to reach for Ally’s hands, but she was enveloped with a strange, empty space.

Frank started the music.

“Just do the choreo as usual,” Frank instructed, “We’ll make adjustments as needed.”

Normani tried to let the beat seep into her limbs. Lauren started, her smoky voice reverberating through the area. She watched Dinah, all the way to the left.

_Just do what you always do, Mani._

Her turn. She missed the word “different”.

“It’s okay, keep going, it’s just rehearsal. Camila, move to the right more,” Frank called out.

Dinah’s turn. She’s in the back with Lauren.

Lauren glanced at her, mouthing, “Are you okay?”

She nodded. The music didn’t want to seep into her limbs, she felt foggy and limp. The bun on her head was getting heavy. She squeezed it, and her hair was still damp. She should take it off and let it dry, but it’s going to get big when it does.

Now it’s the chorus.

Point up from under, hand out, twist your leg. Hand on hip, circle your feet. Dip down.

Maybe she’ll be fine, she thought, and the chill from the empty space that she felt around her seemed to be getting warmer.

Ally’s big note. The vibrato flickered warmth through Normani’s veins. Now, just her whistle note left. She’s fine.

The door opened suddenly, and everyone’s jolted.

“Keep going!” Frank called.

They walked in.

Them.

The boys.

One Direction.

It was time for her whistle tone.

They were watching, and the chill of their eyes froze up her veins again.

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She stopped. She should never stop.

Number one rule from vocal lessons: “If you mess up, keep going.”

But she stopped, and now, everyone’s eyes were on her. She made herself small, scrunching her limbs together.

_Breathe Mani, breathe,_ she repeated like a mantra in her head. 

“Stop,” Frank said, waving his hands. Camila jogged to the stereo and shut off the music.

One Direction are mumbling to each other.

“Mani, breathe,” Frank said.

She didn’t breathe. She felt tight and tangled.

“Are you okay now?” Frank asked.

She could see Liam Payne staring at her. And Niall. And Louis. And Zayn. And Harry.

“Yeah,” Normani lied.  

Lauren’s eyes were also on her, but they didn’t seem as menacing as everyone else’s. She gave her a smile.

“Okay, Cam, turn it back on. Let’s start with Ally’s big note,” Frank said.

The music was on again. She shut her eyes tight, and tapped her foot to the beat.

“You can do it,” Lauren said, her voice muffled by the song.

Normani took a breath. Ally’s done her note. The chorus again.

 

Now.

 

She opened her mouth, and out it came, clean and smooth. She didn’t even feel herself do it. She opened her eyes, and the world was buzzing fast.

“Yeah, Mani!” Camila called.

She smiled, and soon, they were done the song. One Direction hooted in the back.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” Frank said, patting her back.

 

* * *

 

He’d never seen them perform.

Well, he has on the X Factor. But he’d never seen them perform their own songs. There was always something different about performing your own song rather than a cover.

“They do choreography,” Niall whispered.

“Mate, most pop groups do choreography,” Harry replied.

God save them if they ever tried that, Harry thought. Liam would be able to pull it off, but he could never see himself or Zayn up there, busting a move. It took both of them over three hours to memorize the steps for “Best Song Ever”. Louis suggested they do it whenever they performed the song. Zayn immediately responded with a loud “No.”

“Whoa,” Zayn said, when the shortest of the girls belted, “She’s great.”

Her vibrato riffed through the room like some electromagnetic wave. Even Louis, who’d been glued to his phone nodded in admiration.

“They’re not bad,” Liam said.

Then the girl, the one outside his room this morning, lifted her mic up to sing. She opened her mouth, but only air came out. She froze.

Their choreographer stopped the music.

“Oh, poor lass,” Niall said.

The girl was heaving hard, scrunched up tight against herself.

“Breathe, Mani,” their choreographer said.

He started their music again.

The short girl belted her note. The girl (Mani?) shut her eyes tight, and after taking a deep breath, her limbs slowly softened. When her part came, she let out a note, one up high in the stratosphere. Nice and clear, as Liam had put it.

It wasn’t until she was done that Harry realized he’d been holding his breath.

“Woo!” Liam cheered, after the song finished. They all cheered after, emitting eye-scrunching smiles from the girls. But the other girl (Mani?) stood still, only a tiny smile present on her lips.

“Boys,” the choreographer said, “Meet Fifth Harmony. Dinah, Ally, Camila, Lauren, and Normani.”

Harry took a minute to connect the names to faces.

Dinah is the tall one, the one doing the ad libs at the last chorus. Ally is the short one, the one with the killer belt. Camila (not Camilla, now he knew) is the one he’d remembered. Lauren is the one with the gleaming eyes. And she, the girl that was outside his hotel room is Normani. The one with the whistle tone.

“Hello,” Liam said brightly, the first to walk up.

“Hey,” the girls replied all at once.

Normani ignored him and picked at her fingernails.

“Well, since we’re touring together, we should get to know each other,” Liam added.

“All right, break then,” their choreographer said, heading for the stack of water bottles at the corner of the room.

Amidst the handshakes and second introductions, Harry bumped into Normani again. She looked at him, then quickly darted her eyes on the floor.

He held out his hand.

“We’ve met before,” he said.

She took his hand, and let out a small chuckle.

“Yeah.”

“Your whistle tone is great,” Harry said.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice small.

Before Harry could say anything more, Dinah held out her hand to introduce herself to him.

 

 

 


	3. Princess?

Normani picked at her meatball marinara and squeezed herself next to Lauren, as close as she could. Ally was animated, like usual, and so was the rest of them. There were jokes, and conversations about shitty interviewers, and talks about fans on twitter.

They’d all wanted to get lunch, and Niall suggested the Subway across the street. They got a “no” from the boys’ manager. Fans were already piling outside, and it’d be too much of a fuss to try to squeeze ten people through the crowd – much to Normani’s relief. She wasn’t up for it.

One Direction’s crew got them a box of subs and drinks, and they sat around the rehearsal area, in a small circle. It’d been an hour or so, and Normani itched to be back at the hotel room. Her stomach was clenched tight; she couldn’t stomach a nibble of her sandwich.

“So you’ve been touring, right?” Louis asked.

Ally took a large sip of her drink. “Yeah, just in the US though. This is our first overseas gig.”

“I heard, you were with Cher for a few dates, yeah?” Niall said, mouth stuffed with deli meat.

They all nodded. Normani pushed her sandwich behind her. Maybe she’d have an appetite later. She took a deep breath and composed herself. _Always look composed,_ Miss Peggy always told her.

“How are you all liking the UK so far?” asked Zayn.

Camila shrugged. “It’s our first full day here, actually.”

“Oh,” Liam said, “Well, you got three weeks, have one of our guys take you around.”

“All our free time are rehearsals right now, unfortunately,” Dinah said, plucking a piece of tomato off her sub.

“You don’t need rehearsals,” Harry said, “You’re pretty good. You should get to have fun at least.”

They chuckled. _Put on a smile,_ Normani told herself. That was another thing Miss Peggy continually drilled in their minds. _Always smile. To practice, rub petroleum jelly on your teeth._

“I’ll take you around, if you want,” Niall added, his eyes fixated on Lauren. She turned away quickly and played around with her straw.

“This is fun,” Camila said, “Compared to what we were doing before.”

Harry yawned. “It was. It gets tiring after a while.”

_Like pageant classes_ , Normani thought.

“What do you guys do to get ready for concerts?” Ally asked.

The boys laughed.

“Staging,” Zayn said, pushing his hair back, “But we don’t really do staging much anymore.”

“But you guys,” Harry added, “Props to you. We’d all quit the band if we tried any ounce of choreography.”

“It’s barely anything. I’ve tripped doing it already,” Camila said, crumpling up her sandwich wrapper.

“It’s because you have two left feet,” Dinah replied.

“Hey! Do you see the heels we have to wear?” Camila said, throwing the crumpled wrapper at Dinah. Dinah stuck her tongue out.

Normani remembered how Miss Peggy required all of them to have 3-inch heels on hand. _You never know when we need to work on walking eloquently with heels,_ she’d say.

Louis laughed. “You’re violent too, I see.”

Ally shook her head. “Wait until the soda gets to their head, they’ll be sliding all over the place.”

“I can’t anymore,” Camila said, “There’s a hole in my socks now.”

She lifted up her feet, showing the huge hole where one of those flying tomatoes was once at.

“What kind of socks are those?” Zayn asked.

“We got them at Denver,” Lauren replied, “Mani left hers at home though.”

Normani folded her legs against herself and inched closer to Lauren.

“What was on yours?” Liam asked, looking at Normani.

“Tiaras,” Normani replied, almost a whisper.

“’Cause she’s a princess,” Lauren added, brightly.

The boys chuckled. “Are you really?” Niall asked.

“Only to my parents and Lauren,” Normani replied.

 

* * *

 

_“Miss Peggy’s Pageant School” was printed big and bright, in gaudy fonts, right outside the building. Texas heat was only making Normani more nauseous._

_Mama led her in, and down a wood paneled hallway, smelling strongly of cinnamon. The burst of cool air felt nice on her skin, Normani thought. Then, she heard the sounds of mumbling voices and clacking stilettos. Her stomach felt sick again._

_There were twenty girls in the class. Nearly all of them were blue-eyed blondes, like little dolls. She felt their stares burning into her skin as she walked in. Mama talked to Miss Peggy before kissing her good-bye. She’d be back in an hour._

_Miss Peggy’s stilettos clacked as she walked around the room, talking about the importance of eloquence and aesthetics, forgetting she was speaking to ten year olds. Then, she told them all to slip on their heels._

_“We’re all princesses. And we sure can all look the part, but we need to act the part,” Miss Peggy said._

_For an hour, they pranced around the room in high heels, answering makeshift pageant questions and smiling to an invisible audience. Normani didn’t like the looks they gave her; it made her feel strange in her own skin._

_“You don’t look like a princess,” a girl said to her as she walked back down the pretend stage._

_Normani didn’t look her in the eyes the rest of the time._

_Mama was right at the end of the cinnamon hallway when classes ended. Normani ran into her arms, and she swore she wasn’t going to let Mama take her back again. But she knew she was returning next Friday._

_After Mama paid, they rushed outside in the scorching hot Texas sun. All Normani wanted was to sit inside a cool car when Mama suddenly shouted “We’re not any of your business!”_

_Normani spun around and saw a group of mothers, huddled together mumbling. Then, she felt Mama’s hand on her back, pushing her towards the car._

_“Come on, baby,” Mama said, “Ignore them.”_

* * *

 

Harry learned a few things from the impromptu lunch: Ally Hernandez was most likely born amidst sunshine. Camila Cabello and Dinah Hansen could start their own version of “Jackass”, featuring neon fuzzy socks from Denver as skates. Lauren Jauregui kept them sane, shushing whenever they started to overlap each other like some kind of discordant chorus.

But he didn’t learn anything about Normani.

Normani Hamilton. That was all he learned, that her name was Normani Hamilton and she had socks with tiaras on them. And that her mission seemed to be avoiding eye contact from any of them.

“That Normani girl is really quiet,” Niall said in the elevator.

“I thought she was going to be the talkative one,” Zayn said, “I don’t know, after that whistle tone, I just thought.”

Harry shrugged and pretended not to wonder why.

Now he was up in his room, stomach filled with subs and ready for a nap. He thought maybe he should text that girl he met at Tesco a couple days ago. But he was worried someone else might be outside by the soda machine.

He couldn’t get that song out of his head.

_Boy I miss you, said I really do, boy I miss you…_

He found himself whispering the words.

“Now I understand that we’re better together.”

It was a little too high for his voice range.

He heard Normani’s whistle tone in his head. He wondered if he could ever pull a whistle tone. Now, he struggled reaching that high note in “Gotta Be You”.

They had a meeting tomorrow, he remembered. All of them: him, the boys, Fifth Harmony, and all whoever’s relevant to the tour. He knew what it’d be about, and he wondered if he could skip it if he “overslept”. He didn’t need it. He knew what to be careful of saying.

He threw the covers over him, and suddenly, the bed was wonderfully comfortable under his body. His eyelids grew heavy. He should wake up later, maybe get a beer downstairs.

He woke up the next morning, at 5AM, with Liam knocking maniacally on his door.

“Come on mate! Meeting with management soon! Important!”

Harry hopped in the shower, without realizing, singing the chorus to “Better Together”. 


	4. Interview

The dressing rooms were filled with complimentary croissants, much to their delight. Alexis told them they better eat all they could before make-up, she wasn’t re-applying any smudged lipstick after it. They all dived in for handfuls; they’d been up since the early hours of the morning, squeezing into dresses and shoes. Normani hasn’t even gotten her hair and make-up done yet, but she devoured half a croissant in one bit. Her stomach was begging her to.

Never eat in your pageant dress, Miss Peggy always said. She remembered sneaking in cookies when Miss Peggy wasn’t looking.

“I swear, if they ask the same questions,” Camila said, fluffing up her curls in the mirror.

“What do you guys fight about?” Dinah droned, rolling her eyes, “They act like we hate each other.”

Normani winced as Alexis tugged through the knots in her hair. “They must think we fight about everything,” she said.

“We haven’t fought, _fought,_ all of us, in ages,” Ally added.

The last “fight” they had was over a Danish, Normani remembered. She forgot where, but Dinah decided she wanted the last one and soon enough, Camila made a beeline. Somehow Normani found herself entangled in it, dragging in Lauren and Ally. It wasn’t long before they forgot about the Danish, and they just rolled around like a massive pile of limbs. They laughed for hours after.

“It’s the fighting question or ‘how are you handling the fame’,” Lauren added, pulling on her stockings.

“I’m tempted to say ‘I got a big ass yacht made of gold,” Normani said, chuckling.

“I dare you to!” Lauren said, laughing. Alexis rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Oh man, if you did Mani, Mama Dre’d kill you,” Dinah said, fussing at her eyeliner in the mirror.

“I’m not,” Normani said, although admittedly, she’d been tempted to answer with sarcasm since her pagaent career. Especially because pagaent questions tend to be a little bit more ridiculous.

“You girls better not be planning sabotage,” Alexis sing-songed as she twirled Normani’s hair against the hair curler.

“I’m more worried about Camila’s shoes,” Ally said, pointing to the dark green platforms on Camila’s feet.

“I’ve been breaking them in,” Camila said, tapping her feet repeatedly on the floor.

Normani smiled to herself. She remembered that one event Camila braved stiletto pumps. It was one of her most iconic falls, Lauren joked. Alexis took it to herself to get Camila “training heels”, which according to Ally were platforms, wedges, and block heels. Alexis found the platforms Camila currently wore, or her “bricks” as Dinah liked to call them.

The dressing room floor was usually scattered with band-aids and foot gels. According to Camila’s mom, they’ve spent over $500 on foot gels and band-aids. Ally said that bandaids never work anyway, and she has scars on the back of her ankle from shoes. They all did, actually.

Normani looked at the back of her ankles and remembered that pair of painful pumps. She’d tripped in them. Scarred ankles and sore soles were a common thing between the five of them.

“Are those heavy?” Lauren asked.

Camila swished her feet. “A little,” she said, “I never signed up for killer shoes, you know.”

Ally laughed. “You’ll get used to it Cam. We aren’t all like Mani, wearing heels since she was three.”

Normani remembered the first pair of kitten heels her mother got her. It was her first pageant at four. It was barely an inch, and she couldn’t stop making the tapping noise on the floor. It drove her mom crazy. She wore her first pair of stilettos at 10, and she helped Mama water the garden while wearing them, to break them in. Mama didn’t like that because it got dirty. She didn’t have those heels anymore, she lost it in the…

“You okay Mani?” Dinah asked.

Normani pushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “Yeah,” she said, “Just thinking about the interview.”

The room smelled like burned hair and make-up remover. It was one of the most familiar scents in Normani’s life.

“Don’t worry,” Camila said, “They all ask the same questions anyway.”

Normani nodded and let out a deep breath. Alexis finished off the last of her curls and had moved on to her face. She held her breath as Alexis dusted foundation across her cheeks. The first time Mama put foundation on her, she accidentally inhaled it. It took seven glasses of water for her throat to stop burning.

“All right,” Alexis said, finishing Normani’s makeup with a swipe of lipstick, how about all you girls stand together, see how the outfits work.”

Camila trudged across the room and stood beside Normani, her legs wobbly.

“Are you sure about those shoes Mila?” Normani asked, laughing.

“Beauty is pain,” Camila said, stomping a foot and nearly falling over again.

“Tell me about it,” Dinah said, stretching the sides of her pants, “I can’t breathe in this outfit.”

“Neither can I,” Ally chimed, “My bra is squeezing the life out of me.”

“At least nobody got their brows waxed today,” Lauren added.

They all stood in a line where Alexis took a few minutes switching them around. Mama didn’t believe her when she said the way they stood was carefully planned. It was all for “aesthetics” (Lauren’s word for it), so their clothes looked color-coordinated. They called it “The Shuffle”, and of course this wasn’t without accompaniment of their version of the song.  

“Okay,” Alexis said, “Anyone feel strongly against their position right now?”

They all shook their heads. Normani liked the security of the other girls’ proximity.

 

* * *

 

Caroline gave Harry a hell of a speech after he and Niall darted in late. Harry wanted to blame Niall for all of it, he was the one who suggested they stop at Starbucks to get something to drink. Little did they know – well they should know by now – that they’d be mobbed soon after.

They walked in to Caroline, tapping her foot and shaking her head, Zayn and Louis on the couch, completely absorbed in their phones.

“You could’ve asked Cal or one of them to get you coffee after you got ready,” Caroline said, pulling out blazers and cardigans, “It doesn’t take long to get you guys ready.”

She tossed a handful of them at Harry and Niall, and then called for Lou, “The prodigals are here!”

Lou shook her head as she walked in. “I’m going to buzz off every inch of hair from your noggins,” she said, “Forty-three minutes late.”

“We got mobbed!” Niall said.

“Ooh, what a surprise,” Louis said, looking up from his phone screen. Niall smirked back.

“You know you boys should be accounting for that now,” Lou said, patting the chair by the mirror, “Now someone hop on. We have fifteen minutes to go.”

Harry slipped on a blazer and hopped on the chair. Lou brushed through his hair, and slapped on some mousse, slicking up the front.

“So, how are you getting along with the girls?” Lou asked, opening up the cosmetics kit.

“Fine,” Harry said as Lou smeared foundation on, “They’re nice.”

“You’re done, love,” Lou said, “Niall, your turn. What are they like?”

Harry hopped off and straightened his blazer. “Talkative, and they can pull off choreography,” he said.

“You forgot to add their killer vocals,” Zayn said, “Oh yes, definitely the choreo.”

Louis placed his phone beside him. “You know, I’ve always said we should try a little bit of dancing,” he said.”

Niall laughed hysterically. “Zayn’d quit the band,” he said, “Anyway, they’re pretty girls.”

“Who’s pretty?” Liam asked, walking in, mouth full of biscuits.

“Oi,” Caroline called, “Don’t get crumbs on that blazer, Payne.”

Harry reached out and dusted Liam’s blazer. “Fifth Harmony,” he answered.

“Ooh,” Liam said, eyes widening, “Are they, Niall?”

“Oh come on,” Niall said, “Don’t tell me you don’t find at least one of them fit?”

Lou shook her head at them.

“Mate, they’re like sixteen,” Louis said.

“Just Camila and Dinah,” Niall argued, “I’m not gonna do anything. But Lauren’s pretty fit, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Harry laughed. “Oh god, Niall.”

“She _is_ pretty,” Zayn piped, looking up from his phone.

“Oh no,” Liam said, raising a finger.

“Hey,” Zayn replied, “She is, but I’m with Niall. I’m not gonna do anything.”

Liam mouthed “I’m watching you,” as he plopped in a chair by the door. “Those girls are sweethearts, though.”

“Are they, Liam?” Harry teased as he scrolled down his phone. The girl from the other night’s sent him five messages. He sighed and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Don’t start with me,” Liam replied.

“Niall, look, your Lauren’s over there,” Louis said, pointing out the door.

“Shut it Lou,” Niall replied, getting off the chair.

Harry turned to see the girls walking by their dressing room, their heels clacking in a rhythm. They were followed by the runner, who stuck his head in to give them a ten minute warning.

“You boys better get going,” Caroline said.

They dashed out the room and into the hallway leading to the stage. The girls stood there, behind the stage manager whose head peeked through the curtains.

“You boys come here,” the stage manager called, motioning to them, “They’ll introduce you first.”

They squeezed through the girls, while exchanging “good mornings” and “hellos”. The smell of perfume filled the small space, something they’re not typically used to, unless it’s a meet and greet. It was always the smell of musk and old spice. He turned to see that he was squeezed next to Normani, who was picking at her nails.

“Hey,” he said.

She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment and turned away.

“You haven’t told anyone about the thing right?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“So, how are you?” he asked, attempting to cut through the awkward tension.

She shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “You like London?”

“Jetlagged,” she said softly.

He felt a little relief for getting her to talk.

“I get that too,” Harry said.

“I’m not used to it,” she replied.

“You’ll get used to it,” Harry said. She smiled and turned away again.

The stage manager motioned for them to go on, and Harry followed Liam i, to a screaming crowd and a bright orange stage. They all took a seat in the plastic couch next to the interviewer, some woman, who Harry was sure had interviewed them before. There was another plastic couch across them, for the girls he assumed.

“Also, please welcome, One Direction’s opening act, Fifth Harmony!” the woman said.

The crowd roared again, and the girls walked in, right behind each other, waving and smiling at the audience. Harry’s eyes immediately found Normani, last to enter. She took a seat at the end, next to Ally. She pushed her curls back behind her shoulder and pulled the bottom of her dress down as she shifted in her seat.

“So we’ve had One Direction here before, but this is the first time we’ve had Fifth Harmony here,” the interviewer said, pep building with every word, “How do you girls like the UK?”

Ally took the mic first. “We went around yesterday, went shopping. A couple fans actually stopped us. It’s unbelievable we’ve been able to reach outside the US.”

The crowd cheered. The girls smiled and waved again. Normani smiled, a hint brighter than she had ever done since she arrived.

“Besides your insane harmonies,” the interviewer said, chuckling at her own pun, “We’ve been getting questions on where you get your clothes. Especially your shoes!”

Lauren took the mic. “We’d like to know too. But our amazing stylist gets clothes for us. I think she knows our style better than us.”

The crowd laughed.

“Why don’t you girls get up and show us your shoes?” the interviewer asked, “Would you like to see their shoes?”

The crowd broke out into cheers and “yesses”.

“Why don’t they ask us to do that?” Niall whispered, chuckling.

“Mate, nobody wants to see your ratty trainers,” Zayn replied. Liam and Louis laughed.

The girls all got up, walked up to the edge of the stage, Camila stumbling a bit. They lifted their feet for the audience to see. Dinah and Camila proceeded to pretend they were on the runway, making duck faces and peace signs.

Normani stood on the end, a little less animated than the rest. The bottom of her dress twirled when her hips swayed.

“Wow, stilettos,” the interviewer said, “So you’re all experts in walking with heels then?”

“Not without practice and scratches,” Normani said. The interviewer laughed.

“Thank you girls for showing us your shoes,” the interviewer said, “So if any of you would like a pair you saw on these girls feet, it looks like you have to ask their stylist.”

The girls all took a seat, Normani last. Harry noticed the way her dress fell on her waist, it was just right…

 He didn’t realize he’d been staring at her until he missed the first question the interviewer addressed to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to those who have been reading/following this story, and of course, all your wonderful comments! I hope you enjoy the rest.


	5. Shook Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS IMPORTANT, READ BEFORE CONTINUING!**
> 
> Firstly, thanks to everyone who's said wonderful things about this fic. It keeps my spirit high. Also, sorry about not updating for months, I hit a writer's block.
> 
>  **NOW THE IMPORTANT STUFF:** Some things in this chapter may be a bit triggering. It's nothing extreme, but  a panic attack and a flashback of Hurricane Katrina is shown in this chapter. If that is something that could trigger you, please don't read. Also, if you believe I portrayed a panic attack incorrectly or in the wrong light, please tell me. You can tell me through my blog or through here and I'll fix it!
> 
> Now that the important stuff is out of the way, happy reading.

“Never let them know you messed up,” was a constant pulsating phrase in Normani’s head. And she swore she didn’t, but she can’t remember at all.

Her body was burning hot and her head buzzed. There was always that strange feeling she got after being pelted on by bright lights. But she felt terrible right now. She messed up. That’s all she could think about until they were done the show.

She felt Ally’s hand wrap around her’s. The bodyguards – One Direction, not theirs  - led them to the back of the studio. Normani can hear the shrill screams of the fans all the way here. _It’s for the boys_ , she knew. The number of ridiculous death threats in her mentions (and the other girls’ as well) gave her the idea that One Direction fans weren’t all-too pleased with the new opening act.

“Mani, you okay?” Ally asked. Normani gripped her hand tighter.

“I messed up, Al,” she said. Her voice felt hoarse.

“You jumbled up a couple words, Mani,” Ally replied, “You bounced back up. You hit that note too.”

Normani couldn’t hear her. The fog of voices, “Go here, there, hurry”, made her head pound. She thought she’d crushed Ally’s palm in her grip. She tried to find their tour manager, but he’s nowhere in sight. Next, she scanned the place for Dinah. Then for Lauren.  Then for Camila.

Nothing but faces and hands, and accents she’d only heard before on Harry Potter. Her feet were starting to ache in her stilettos. She hated loud, urgent noises. It reminded her of the time when…

“Go here, go here. Girls!”

“Mani!”

Ally’s hand nudged her left, and led her towards a parking area. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was one of the boys’ bodyguards. Phil? Peter?

“Hurry it up girls,” he said, “The van’s been waiting outside for a while.”

The van stood just outside the parking garage. A wall of chilly wind hit Normani. The toes peeping out of her shoe instantly froze up. Ally nudged her again and they both hop in the van. It’s warm, loud, and it smelled like a mixture of pressed powder, sweet perfume, and strong cologne. The boys were in the van too. The lump in Normani’s stomach coiled tighter.

 Niall waved at them.

“All right, take a seat,” the driver called.

Lauren, Dinah, and Camila were seated and packed tightly in the middle seats with Zayn and Louis.

“There’s seats in the back,” Lauren mouthed.

There was a spot beside Harry. Normani’s stomach coiled even tighter.

“Young lady, take a seat,” the aggravation in the driver’s voice growing. Suddenly a pounding noise startled Normani. She could see the bodyguard’s faint figure outside the window.

“We should get going!” the bodyguard called, his voice muffled.

The driver opened his window. “We should, but these girls won’t take a seat.”

Normani could feel the driver’s glare on her back. Harry looked at her and said “There’s an empty seat here.” He patted the space beside him.

“Mani, go on,” Ally said.

Normani squeezed herself beside Harry and inched herself as close to Ally as possible.

“All set?” the driver called.

“Yup!” the boys replied in unison.

The van started, and suddenly the shrill screaming of the fans were audible again.

“This can get a little overwhelming,” Harry said. “We always get mobbed after interview tapings.”

Normani inched her head up to see a large, screaming crowd, growing more and more visible.

“Oh god,” the driver muttered, “Are Paul and the men up there?”

“They should be,” Liam said.

The loud screeches enveloped the van like pounding rain. Normani could see the crowd close in, their fingers barely brushing by the car windows. It was just like the time when she was 10, and when she was in her uncle’s car, and they were all rushing out of New Orleans. Except that time, there was pounding rain, and…

 Ally fell back as a knuckle knocked against the window beside her. Normani’s stomach lurched. She clutched on tighter to Ally.

“Oi,” Niall said, scrunching his forehead, “They should’ve put up the gates.”

“I don’t know why they didn’t,” Harry muttered.

The screaming grew unbearable. Normani’s head rattled and heart pounded fast. Her chest ached and the car felt ten degrees hotter.

“Normani?”  Ally said, turning to her. It wasn’t until then that she’d realized she’d nearly crushed Ally’s palm.

She felt like she was going to suffocate. Now the screaming was ringing in her ears, and in front of her, Dinah’s face began to blur.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked.

“I can’t breathe,” Normani said, a lump in her throat forming. Her chest felt heavy as she tried to exhale. Her throat was dry.

“Normani?” Lauren said, quickly turning her head.

Normani’s heart pounded even faster.

“I can’t breathe,” she said again.

She couldn’t see Lauren or Ally’s face.

The screaming outside the car burned her ears. It was like the time back in the 2005, when the car broke down, and the rain was hard, and for a minute they thought they lost her Mama.

The screaming sounded like her daddy’s screams.

_“Andrea!”_

 She really couldn’t breathe.

“Mani!” Ally said, her voice laced with panic. Normani’s only heard Ally’s voice like that once before.

Then, suddenly, everyone in the car is turning to look at her and the car’s driving further into the sea of fans, and the screaming is amplifying almost tenfold to her ears. But all she could see was her daddy, back in New Orleans, back when they thought her mom…

“Mama!” she screeched, her head light and fuzzy and she can’t lift her body anymore and she really, _really_ breathe and it’s all getting fuzzy…

She could see their faces, Ally, Lauren, Camila, Dinah, rushing around in the moving car towards her. The driver was yelling at them to sit down.

They’re getting blurrier and blurrier.

“Normani!” she heard, but it wasn’t any of their voices. It was low and raspy.

She went black.

 

 

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t get the look of absolute panic in Normani’s eyes out of his head. She was right next to him too; he can’t help feeling he could’ve done something. He hadn’t seen anyone in that state in a long time. It’d shot a surge of terror in his veins.

Harry felt something sloppy hit his head.

“Are you listenin’ to me?”

He snapped back, realizing that Niall had been mumbling about some nonsense he’d tuned out.

“Yeah, Ni,” Harry replied, placing the sub on the coffee table between them.

Niall changed the channel for the 100th time.

“I’m glad we actually got a little break before the awards tonight,” Niall said, settling on some soap opera. “It’s nice.”

Harry nodded. He wondered if Normani had been taken to the hospital. He wondered if there was something wrong with her. They’d tell them wouldn’t they?

“You haven’t said a word about me putting on the soaps,” Niall laughed, “You’d be fightin’ me for the remote now.”

“I don’t care, don’t feel like telly right now,” Harry said. He didn’t understand why he’d been shaken by what had happened earlier so badly.

“You sound cranky,” Niall said, chuckling. “You reckon Normani’ll be fine to go to that awards show tonight?”

Hearing her name caused a strange leap in Harry’s chest.

“I hope so,” Harry replied. “What happened with her?”

Niall changed the channel again. “Her ma told me she had a panic attack.”

“What?” Harry asked, a wave of concern filling his stomach.

“Yeh,” Niall said, “Poor lass. Her ma said she’s surprised because she hasn’t had ‘em in a long time.

Harry wondered why he wasn’t told. What’s Niall doing chatting with Mrs. Hamilton?

“I feel bad,” Harry said, his voice small.

Niall shrugged. “I just hope they won’t make her come out tonight if she’s ill.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

\--

Harry knew sunglasses and a hat wouldn’t fool anyone, yet he still tried. He could hear Zayn in his head “You’re mad mate, going out there without a bodyguard.”

He didn’t anyone to know. He’d headed to the hotel gift shop and picked up a nice box of chocolates – for Normani. He didn’t know why, he just somehow felt like he should get something to make her feel better – no, he _wanted_ to get her something. He threw in a bag of gummies to make it look like he was buying himself snacks, in case somebody got pictures. He didn’t want any speculations of some lady he was trying to woo.  It was all fine until he was done paying, and a fan spotted him.

After taking nearly thirty fan pictures and signing a variety of things, he ran for the elevator, hoping nobody’d see him. He managed until his floor, now attempting to find a way to hide the chocolate or excuse it. He didn’t want to say it was a snack, because Niall would eat half of it. So he stuck in the inside pocket of his coat, wondering why he’d suddenly gotten so weird about buying someone a present.

“There you are!”

Harry saw Caroline coming down the hallway, looking exasperated.

“Don’t tell me, you were mobbed again?” she said, shaking her head.

Harry felt inside his pocket to make sure the chocolate were still tucked in safe. “Actually, I was.”

He flashed her his toothy grin.

“Where did you go? Getting numbers?” Caroline asked, eyebrow raised.

“No!” Harry said, “I went to get a snack. See?”

Harry held up his bag of gummies. Caroline chuckled.

“You could’ve asked one of the men to get one for you,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down the hallway.

“I wanted a walk,” Harry lied.

“Mhm,” Caroline said, “Scoping the field, right?”

“No!” Harry replied.

“Come on,” Caroline said, ignoring him, “Got to get you boys ready for the award show.”

 

* * *

 

Normani felt a faint throbbing in her head. Randy pulling her hair into the straightener wasn’t helping either. The light on the vanity mirror felt like staring into the sun.

“You don’t look good,” Randy said, suddenly stopping.

Normani sighed. She felt a shiver run down her back; she suddenly felt cold with her shoulders exposed. But she could see Dinah and Camila through the mirror, dolled-up and nearly ready, radiating excitement. Ally had been on the phone for hours, with her mom, Troy, her brother, chattering about this award show. Their first international award show. She’d nearly forgotten about it all this morning, because of that damn interview.

“I’m fine,” Normani said, straightening her herself in the chair. She couldn’t miss it. She wasn’t sure if she’d be allowed to either.

“Sweetie, if you don’t feel good, we could talk to them, maybe –“

“I can do it, all right,” Normani said, surprised at the edge in her voice.

“Wow, all right,” Randy said, his voice small. He started up the straightener again and continued.

“Sorry,” Normani quickly said. Her voice felt shaky, a stirring feeling suddenly rising in her chest. _Don’t cry,_ she told herself. _Don’t fucking cry._

“Aww,” Randy said, squeezing her shoulders. He swiped two pieces of tissue paper from the table and handed it to her. “Don’t let your mascara run, Alexis’ll give you hell.”

Randy smiled and kissed her head. “It’s okay. You haven’t had a good day. You’ll be fine, you look gorgeous.”

Normani felt a small weight drop from her chest.

“Go on, go join them, smile and laugh. Make yourself happy,” Randy said.

Normani stood up, for a minute forgetting how to function in heels. It’d felt like the first time she donned a pretty dress and stilettos. She nearly tripped over if Camila hadn’t reached for her hand, followed by Dinah attacking her with a hug.

“I love you,” Dinah said into her hair, giggling. Camila joined in, pressing a warm kiss on her cheeks.

“I love you more,” Camila said, squeezing the three of them tighter.

Normani felt a surge of warmth burst in her heart.

“Guys,” she said, muffled beneath hair and limbs, “I love you too.”

Soon, they’re tipping, and Camila hits the ground first, laughing hysterically. Then Dinah, screeching, then her, and they’re a mess. The floor is covered in sequins, and Normani’s sure Alexis will have their heads, but now she was laughing, the heavy feeling in her chest and stomach subsiding.

“Don’t mess up your hair!” Randy called, shaking his head and smiling.

Dinah placed her head in Normani’s shoulder and said “So, you’re okay?”

“I am now,” Normani replied, her voice soft. Camila scooched closer and squeezed her hand.

“We’re here okay,” she said.

“We’ll never, ever leave you,” Dinah added, “Even if you want us to.”

Normani smiled. The room had an overwhelming smell of fruity perfume and hairspray, but Normani started to feel better. She felt excitement building in her veins, something she hasn’t felt in a while. They’re going to a British awards show. Just over a year ago, she’d help onto the hope of getting somewhere. _This is amazing,_ she finally thought.

Suddenly, Lauren’s at the doorway, telling them to all come down the hall, _please_ , because Alexis wants a picture of their outfits. Normani, Camila, and Dinah all skitter down the hall, hand in hand, Dinah laughing about how she hoped Alexis didn’t notice the missing sequins on their dresses.

“Normani!”

Normani’s heart stopped as she quickly turned her head to see someone running down the hall in an all-black suit. Camila started giggling, and Normani felt something weird in her stomach when she’d realized it was Harry Styles.

“Wait!” he called, stopping in front of them. He smelled like expensive cologne.

“Uh, Normani?” he said.

Normani felt her palms begin to sweat. She didn’t know he knew her name.

“I uh,” he said, fiddling with something in his hands, “I was worried about earlier, and um. I-I hope you’re doing okay. I got you something.”

He handed her a box of chocolates. Normani stood there, unable to find a correct reply. Dinah and Camila were just as quiet.

“I just wanted to do something to make your feel better,” Harry said, the sides of his cheeks  turning pink, “I d-didn’t know what to…I hope you’re n-not allergic to chocolate or nuts.”

“T-thanks,” Normani said, feeling flustered. Her heart seemed to have started beating faster.

“S-see you around,” Harry said, giving her a small smile before turning around to go.

They watched him until he was out of sight.

“What was that about?” Normani said, looking at the box of chocolates in her hand. They were new and unopened. “I thought it was a joke at first.”

Camila shrugged. “Maybe he’s just being nice.”

Dinah chuckled. “He likes you.”

Normani scrunched her face. _That’s the least likely,_ she thought.

“Nah,” she said, shaking her head, “It’s probably for PR or something.”

“Or…he’s being nice,” Camila said.

Before Normani could answer, Alexis’ exasperated voice called them down the hall. 


End file.
